The town is quiet, eerily so. All animals, all chatter, all gusts of wind have come to a complete stop this morning. A tumbleweed passes by through the center of town and the rocking chair on the Sheriff's porch sways but remains silent. Everything is muted and as the door of the hotel opens, the only sensation that rings utterly true today is this:
This is the end.
Suddenly, the church bells ring -- twelve rings to mark the hour and the door to the Sheriff's station swings open on the twelfth. The Sheriff tucks his thumbs into his belt loops and walks across the strip of town right to the door of the Saloon. A moment later, he knocks on the door frame, loud enough to alert anyone who might be inside.
"Alright, folks. Come on out. Time to end this."
And then he turns his back and walks back into the middle of the street, waiting.
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robowest2017-03-03 06:00 pm
no subject
One, two, three, four.
The gun feels too heavy in his hand. Aches, uncomfortable. Stings like he's crushing burning embers in his palm. How disappointed his father would be in him. Not only did he kill, he made excuses for it, and now, at the end, he's using a gun.
Five, six, seven.
On eight, he thinks about whether or not he wants to go home at all anymore. If he shoots Barnham and, after, Percy, he can make the choice himself. He can start over, and no one has to die. On nine, he hopes when (if) they go back, he forgets everything so he doesn't have to look his father in the face knowing he spilt blood. More blood.
On ten, he turns around in place and fires without hesitation at Barnham's chest.]
no subject
But he did. And there was no going back after that.
He doesn't shorten his paces for Damian, but he doesn't make them long paces either; easy, simply and knightly steps, even as he keeps his chin high. ("Walk tall" echoes in his head, and he obeys.)
Right now, there's nothing but this. Just a little bit longer, and a little more blood on his hands, and he can rest. He was never meant to be a hero but... it seems he was never really meant to be a knight, either, for all of his pride in his belief of justice.
(He's a fraud.)
Ten doesn't come soon enough, but it also comes all too soon, and Barnham doesn't hesitate. He's gotten a great deal of practice in using a gun lately, but that doesn't mean he's good at it; he turns, adjusted already for Damian's height, and fires as well, and then there's the searing pain in his chest and he crumples slowly, falling to one knee and grimacing in pain. He keeps the gun in hand, but his free hand presses to the bullet wound in his chest, blood gathering around his fingers.
It'll be fatal, he assumes, given enough time.
He doesn't really intend to wait, though. He doesn't want to really put this on Damian's shoulders--a child, who has already had to kill three people because of his own desperation and this all too cruel game. He won't put this on Damian's shoulders either; he lifts the gun without looking to see if he hit Damian or not, and puts it to his own temple.
This, too, he can take care of himself.]
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This time, it feels like steel heated in a furnace and pressed to his skin. So hot it's numb. His stomach cramps, but when he raises his other hand, it's covered in blood. Idiot. What a wasted fight.
There's still no hesitation. Without falling or teeter, Damian raises the gun to his own temple. His eyes are on Percy.] Do it. Don't think about anything else but going home. Fixing your mistakes are a wasted effort.
Send them back, Jackson. Send us all back.
[He can take care of himself, too.]
no subject
... Oh.
[ Oh!!! ]
Y'all...!
[ And then the Sheriff intervenes because god damnit, it's like neither of them is paying attention. It's like no one read the rules. The Sheriff looks genuinely surprised for a moment at the choice they're making before swearing -- loudly -- and his hand jumps to the gun at his hip.
Two bullets is all it takes -- bang, bang, right into the skulls of both Barnham and Damian. They'll crumple like a heap a moment later and the Sheriff swears again, pressing his free hand to his face and his gun hand to his hip. ]
The hell did I say about suicide, ya morons?
[ Damian Wayne and Zacharias Barnham are dead. ]
no subject
"Fixing your mistakes are a wasted effort."
These are, in fact, his mistakes. But there's panic in the moments his friends lift the guns to their heads, and then relief when Hal steps in. He's silent. Whole Ass is silent now. He stares at the crumpled, bloodied and broken figures of two people he trusted to end this game right...and he turns to the Sheriff.]
...thank you for stopping them. They don't deserve to be disqualified. [He bows his head.] Is it instantaneous? Are they on the train now?
no subject
All seems to be in order.
Finally, he turns to Percy and pulls out his pipe from his pocket. He takes a moment to load it with tobacco and light it up with a match, placing it between his lips. ]
I'll let 'em join when you do. Tomorrow, when we depart. It's a long trip so ain't a reason to overwhelm them so suddenly, and it'll give the rest of 'em a moment to cool off.
[ Small circles of smoke leave his pipe and he rocks on his heels slightly, fingers tapping against his belt. ]
So, my Coal Miner won the competition, eh? Pretty interesting, gotta say. Since your role is a nothing role. Disposal, at most. Guess it shows how much the rest of 'em fucked up that you're the one standing here.
[ Pretty funny, honestly. ]
What's it gonna be then, winner?
no subject
That's not fair, but if they're safe that's all I ask. I don't care about when I join the train. I think the reaction is going to be the same.
...my mind didn't change, Hal. I'd like everyone to go home, or to the place they would consider home now. I'd like this to never happen to them again. And I'd like you to ask them if they wish to keep their memories or not. I'm keeping mine. But I don't think it's something that should be forced, since your asshole employers forced us in the first place.
...and man, don't say that about them. If anyone fucked up it was me. But I...my choices led us here. Everyone is safe now, right?
no subject
So, he nods and looks pleased with himself. ]
S'a lot of stops to make, Percy, but you got it. Hope they all thought about it, where they want to go, what they want to keep. Would be a shame if they got stuck on the train 'cause they were indecisive.
[ A snort. ]
Safe as houses, kid. Only one thing left to do now that the decision is made. Everything else you'll get once you're on the train.
[ And so, he unholsters his gun and holds it out for Percy to take. ]
Thanks for playing.
no subject
But it was never a question. He's thought about this from the beginning. They're safe now.
Everyone will be safe now. This won't happen again. It's not ideal, there's so much more he wishes to fix, more he had argued about days ago...but this will do. Not for the first time in the face of doom, he thinks of Annabeth. He looks at the offered gun and thinks of Annabeth.
"I've put way too much time and effort into keeping you in one piece to let someone shoot you? We wouldn't want me to have to start from scratch."
People did this for him. He's a disappointment, he knows. A hero? He doesn't know. But he knows he can't waste their sacrifices. He has to end this right.
He takes the gun and lifts it to his temple, staring the Sheriff in the eye.]
It's been a real pleasure, Sheriff. [There's a lingering moment that he stares again.] See you soon. [And before he can take another breath, he narrows his eyes and pulls the trigger.]
no subject
Percy crumples to the floor and the Sheriff watches, expression unchanging aside from a raised eyebrow at how easily he goes. Blood splashes to his face but he doesn't mind it, only pulls his pipe out a moment later and presses it out with a thumb. It goes back into his pocket as he crouches down to take his gun from Percy's still warm fingertips.
The decision is made and the winner is dead. There's nothing left to do now.
He looks over at the other two bodies, Barnham and Damian, before back to the train again. A hand lifts in a single wave and he holsters his gun before turning and heading back for the station.
Slow steps up the porch and through the door and he closes it behind him with a soft click. The town continues to remain silent, nothing and no one left to stir it. They're all gone, after all. They're all ready to go home. Which means with that --
The game is over. ]